Spider-Menace
by Kaekoa
Summary: Spider-Man wasn't really sure how he got into this situation. He hadn't done anything wrong. Admittedly, it probably would have helped if he hadn't ran the first time. But when somebody is shooting an arrow at you, who wouldn't. It's not like he had known that Black Widow was the first one following him that he had webbed up. Pre-HC/CW Protective!Fatherly!Clint Family!Avengers
1. Runaway Spider

Peter let out a sigh of frustration as he heard the sound of Iron Man's repulsors in the distance once again. He gave a quick smirk to the three men laying in various states of distress in the small alley in front of him. The man closest to him groaned, his legs webbed to the outside of the large dumpster. He was folded almost in half, his right hand webbed to the far wall of the trash and his left stuck to what looked to be a diaper.

"Oh man, that's what you call Karma. New York dumpster diving doesn't seem to suit you man. Shouldn't you get a gas mask or something? Maybe some gloves? Or maybe just stop with the whole burglary thing, ya know? Anyhow, I gotta fly… swing … you know. The whole Spider-Man thing." He waved his hands around before realizing the thug couldn't see anyway. Glancing back, he turned and grabbed the phone out of the coat pocket of the unconscious guy webbed to the wall and dialed 911 before replacing it into his pocket with a friendly pat.

"Ciao! Enjoy your time in jail!" He called out cheerfully to the groan of the man lying on the ground a few feet away.

The sound of Iron Man's repulsors were louder now, no more than a few miles away. He webbed up to the nearest rooftop before glancing around for a place to hide, not keen on another fight so soon after the last. Especially with how close they had gotten last time, it was best to just avoid the Avengers all together. He spotted an abandoned warehouse a couple streets away and quickly made his way in the direction, using his webs as little as possible and sticking to the shadows. He couldn't risk being spotted, and using his webs wouldn't help him with staying hidden. He shivered in the cold temperatures, wishing he had a coat or something to pull over himself.

He had made it about halfway there before his spider sense tingled and there was a scarily familiar thwap to the building beside him. He broke out into a sprint, not bothering to look back as hawkeye ziplined down behind him.

"Shit shit shit shit shit shit," He muttered under his breath as he zig-zagged down a cramped side road between beat up apartment buildings, ducking and twisting as an arrow shoots by and narrowly misses his shoulder.

"Dammit!" He yelps out as he webs up to the top of the ugly building next to him, breaking out into a sprint toward the next building. He didn't hear any more arrows nearby, maybe he was out of range by now. He vaulted over the roof's edge and dropped down a few feet to the next building over, executing a perfect roll and continuing to sprint as soon as his feet hit. He heard the sound repulsors gaining on him and quickly changed direction toward the closer side of the building. He was too far from the edge, he knew he wouldn't make it, but he had to try. Iron Man landed directly in front of him and he was forced to skid to a stop a few feet away.

"Oh, hey man. How's it going? You know, the whole...saving the world thing. Not… whatever this is." He glanced around wildly, taking a step back. "How's Black Widow doing?" Oh shit, that sounded a lot snarkier than he intended. He continues to ramble. "I mean, she took a pretty bad hit and… shit this isn't coming out how I want… I mean, I hope she's okay and I'm really, really sorry." He squeaks out the last bit as his spider sense tingles and he's forced to lunge to the side as something that is most definitely not the size of an arrow whips by his head. He glances back as Iron Man catches and tosses it back to Captain freaking America.

"Holy shit! Captain America just threw his shield at me." He stared from his crouched position a few feet away. "No offense man… sir.. Captain, but I'm not big on frisbee!" He yelps as he rolls to his right, giant metal frisbee skimming his leg before hitting the ledge and rebounding to Mr. America. "What the _hell!_ Does that thing obey the laws of physics at all!?"

He ducked again as an arrow shot over his head before deciding he didn't want to stick around to find out. Glancing behind him, he saw that they'd travelled closer to the edge. Unsure what else to do, he pointed at the space between the two Avengers. "WOAH! Mr. Daredevil! I didn't think you travelled this far out!" He laughed as the two heroes whipped around and shot a web to the next building over and began to swing away, hoping they were distracted for long enough to get a small headstart. He didn't make it far before an arrow cut his web mid-swing and sent him crashing into the dumpster below.

"Oh come _on_! I don't know what you've been reading, but I haven't done anything to deserve this." He grumbled as he vaulted over the side, nose scrunched up beneath the mask at the smell. He was surrounded, trapped between three walls and Hawkeye. Yeah. Captain America most definitely counted as a wall, he decided. The Captain stood firm on one side of the alley, shield at the ready. Hawkeye stood on the other side of him, arrow drawn. Usually, he wouldn't be worried about this as he could just web up onto the roof in front of him, but he had already used that trick last time. They were prepared, Iron Man hovering above. "You guys are going to pay for dry cleaning right? Because that was just plain rude, and I really don't know if a normal washer can get the dumpster stink out. Plus, I _really_ don't know how I'm going to explain the stench and I'd prefer the thugs after me not be able to smell me from miles away. So, if you would.."

"Son, the smell is going to be the least of your worries. Surrender now and this will go a lot easier on you." Yep. There was Captain America utilizing his steely tone to try to scare his enemies into submission. Peter had to say, It worked well. Wait, no. He was most definitely not scared of the large Star-Spangled Avenger staring him down. Hawkeye decided to pitch in his two cents.

"Hey kid, there's no way you're getting out of this. Just come with us peacefully, no point in anyone getting hurt." Peter knew he was probably right. He wasn't getting out of this, but they had him backed into a corner. His pride wasn't going to let him just stand there and take him.

"Sorry guys. I swear I'm innocent but I really gotta get home tonight for dinner and I'd rather not spend it in a cell or wherever you plan on taking me." He let out a small grin unseen beneath the mask, before shooting a web at Hawkeye's arrow and sticking it to his bow with his right web shooter. He shot another web straight up to the avenger above with his left and used Iron Man's panicked backpedaling upward as momentum to swing around and land on Iron-Man's back.

"Giddy up, Scrap Metal!" Yeah, that sounded better in his head, but it did the trick. Stark seemed to find it offensive as he flew, twisting and turning to get the Spider off his back. _Did this kid just call my suit scrap metal? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get your hands on this kind of stuff? Scrap metal? Seriously?_

Captain America was running below them, and he could faintly hear him speaking into the com inside the suit. _Focus, Tony. Get him to Hawkeye, he's got our little surprise ready to go._

Surprise? That didn't sound too good. He yelped when the armor went on a full out dive straight to the ground.

"Shit! shit! shit! This isn't how this is supposed to go!"

He let out another startled yell when additional thrusters turned on, and decided it was now or never. He let go -jerking in panic as he realized just how bad this could turn out if he didn't slow his momentum- as he quickly shot off a web to the building next to him, letting go before it could jar him and shooting off another web, effectively cutting his momentum with each web he caught but still gradually falling. It wasn't enough though, he ran out of fluid a few hundred feet up and jerked to a stop at the end of his web, dislocating his shoulder and stupidly letting go instinctually with the cry of pain, free-falling. He closed his eyes, waiting for the impact and mentally apologizing to Aunt May for not making it to dinner tonight that he had promised to be home for, when a large red and gold blur impacted him from the side. He grunted at the force, letting out a small sob as pain shot through his arm before he could hold it back. He was pretty sure a few of his ribs cracked from the impact of a flying metal suit crashing into him at God knows what speed. He briefly wondered how bruised he would be when he took off the suit later.

"That's what happens when you're naughty, kiddo. Things turn out how I want them to anyway, and you're the one that ends up worse for the wear. That doesn't happen when you surrender peacefully like a good boy."

Asshole. Treating him like he was a five year old who couldn't behave. He could hear the snark behind the voice, and he struggled in the grip as he bit back cries of pain. Being carried bridal style by Iron Man was not how what he planned...though he wasn't sure what it was that he had planned. He really hoped the press wouldn't see this. That wouldn't do for his reputation. Suddenly exhausted, he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep in his bed. He wasn't going anywhere though, and he was forced to stop squirming when Iron Man squeezed his shoulder slightly to keep him still, drawing out a pained moan as his head flopped back. Super healing was nice, but that just meant he would have to pop his shoulder back into place sooner than later. Having the rest of his sense of touch dialled to 11 however, was not fun. He could swear his nerves were on fire. He had only been doing the whole spider thing for a few months, but he wasn't sure he would ever get used to the pain. Thank god he'd never been shot before, that was one thing he didn't want to experience.

He grunted as they touched down and he was placed on his feet. Immediately, he made a run for it. Only to be immediately taken down by Captain America, uninjured arm cranked up behind him and straddled with the man's knees squeezing on either side of his hips. His injured arm flopped loosely to the ground beside him. The Captain's weight was pressing into him, making it slightly hard to breath and sending flares up pain shooting through his side.

"Hey, uh, Mr. America. I don't know about you...uhg... but I really don't swing this way. And uhh… I'm pretty sure that's not even legal. So maybe let me up? I mean… Not that you aren't good looking. Not like I like you or anything! I mean, another guy can admire a body type right? Oh god this sounds wrong and I really don't mean for it to. But like, I really don't swing this way and I don't want to...Umph!" He grunted as his head was pushed to the ground by an irate Captain America, and squirmed slightly before deciding it wasn't worth it. Iron Man seemed to find his ranting hilarious, as his laughs were reverberating out of the armor.

"Oh man, this is great! I think this guy has a man-crush on you Cap! Don't worry, gay marriage is totally legal now," Stark chuckled, letting out a small snort of mirth. Cap glanced up and shot him a glare. "Don't look at me like that Cap! We're in the modern ages now!"

"Shut it, Stark. Don't be inappropriate, he can't be older than 20. Still a kid." He grunted as the young man struggled beneath him. "We don't have time for this. Hawkeye, hurry and get that thing in him so we can go." Spiderman let out a small questioning noise before struggling earnestly, not liking the sound of that.

"What? No! Put what in me?" His eyes went wide and he started desperately struggling and loudly voicing his protest, further amusing the Iron Avenger. "You can't… No! I'll scream rape! Please don't." he whimpered out the last part.

"Kid… No.. We aren't going to… you know… it's just a small needle." Captain America sounded very disturbed, before picking back up his bravado voice. "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime" Peter could see Hawkeye walking toward him from the corner of his eye and kicked his legs desperately in hopes of somehow escaping. He ignored the pain blossoming in his shoulder and ribs and bucked up in an attempt to dislodge the Captain. Hawkeye kneeled next to his head with a syringe filled with a murky white liquid and he let out a small whimper, which he would deny if anyone asked.

"I know! Needles are a no go. Nope. Nada. Not happening. Let me up!" It was too late, Captain had pushed his head forward into the dirt of the alley. Hawkeye had carefully slid the needle through the back of the suit at the base of his neck and slowly pushed down the plunger. He let out a whimper, unaware of what he was doing. He could see Hawkeye standing up with the empty syringe, looking at him with an oddly sad face. The effect was almost instantaneous. He began to feel drowsy and his eyes started to slip closed. He let out a small whisper before it all went dark and he was lifted limply into someone's arms.

"I didn't do anything wrong."


	2. Dodging Punches

**_Jeez, you guys are a tough crowd! My AO3 viewers are much kinder. Kinda bummed me out a little, so I stopped writing for a bit. My kind viewers upped my moral though, so thanks guys! Let me know how this is. I'm fully aware of the Avengers being assholes, that will be explained later. I also went back and made minor edits to the first_**

Peter awoke to to the feeling of softness around him, and he snuggled further into his warm blankets with a content sigh. His mattress had never felt so soft before, and he immediately decided he didn't want to get up. Instead, he turned and snuggled into his pillow, breathing in the scent of the detergent and fabric softener that Aunt May always buys.

He paused. Took another deep breath through his nose.

This wasn't Aunt May's detergent.

With that, the memories came rushing back full-force. He sat up quickly, glancing around the small room wildly as he took everything in. It was fairly well furnished, yet bare all the same. It had a simple bed shoved into the far end, away from the door. A plush mattress and incredibly soft blanket and two pillows on top, a small metal table acting as a nightstand, and even a cozy looking loveseat and chair to the left of the door. He swung his legs over the bed and settled them on cold ground as he took everything in. It was almost a nice room, all in all.

If you could ignore the obvious signs of it being a prison cell, that was. The harsh feeling of the cold concrete beneath his feet seeping into his bones. The furniture being bolted to the floor, the distraught boy sitting atop the plush mattress, the obvious lack of a door handle connecting to the door. His breath came in gasps now, as his brain screamed at him and he hugged the pillow to his chest, before realizing what he was doing and throwing it across the room. He quickly hopped off the bed, gasping as he was sent crashing to his knees from the unexpected pain that shot through his side.

He gripped the metal nightstand next to him as he slowly staggered to his feet, eyes burning. His other hand reached around to grab onto his side, surprised at the lack of the spandex feeling beneath his fingers. Peter looked down on himself as he slowed his breathing, eyes widening in mortification at the sweat pants and slightly too-large cotton t-shirt hanging from his form. He lifted the shirt up, grimacing as he caught sight of blindingly white bandages wound tightly around the middle of his torso. Beneath and above them, the entirety of his side was covered in light purple-ish blue and yellow bruises. He let the shirt drop back down in disgust and anger. They had changed him while he had been unconscious, his suit was nowhere to be found.

He kicked the side of the bed in anger. _He hadn't done a damned thing wrong! Who the hell did they think they were to do this!?_ He kicked the frame again with a frustrated growl, ignoring the pain as it shot through his bones and jostled his ribs. _Oh. Right. Avengers._ He kicked the wall this time, and was sent staggering backward from the pain, ribs properly irritated. Reinforced walls. Got it. Peter slowly moved back to the bed and sank onto the mattress, staring dimly at the pillow he had thrown where it had haphazardly landed beside the door.

Speaking of door, it was opened now. His gaze shot up to the figure leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. Tony freaking Stark, was nonchalantly observing him from the doorway as if he didn't have a care in the world. Which he probably didn't, he wasn't the one stuck in a freaking prison cell. No matter how plush he had made it, it was still a damned cell.

"Oh. Done with your tantrum now, I see?"

Stark raised an eyebrow as Peter glared at him, jaw set in a determined line.

"I didn't do anything," He insisted, standing back up.

There was a loud snort, and Peter let his glare intensify.

"I didn't." He wouldn't back down, not when he was right. "Why am I here?"

Stark entered the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Peter briefly wondered how he would get out now, before dismissing it immediately. Irrelevant. He watched with suspicion as the billionaire pulled out his phone, scrolling through something before twisting it and making a small flicking motion in the air. A hologram appeared and Peter could barely contain himself from exclaiming in awe. Of course, Tony noticed and threw him a smirk before pointing out what were on the holograms up.

It was him, as Spider-Man. The pictures were all of him, webbing people to surfaces, and even holding a knife in one hand as he held his other forward. His Web shooter pointing out threateningly as the man held his hands up in surrender. In another, he had accidentally throat-punched a guy, gun held loosely in his grip as a girl screamed and pressed herself against the wall between them. He had just gotten the gun out of the dude's hand, and he had lunged toward the girl… his fist just kinda flew. In another, closer cropped one, he was dangling a small child out a window. The pictures were badly timed, or cropped in the case of the last one. There had been a web wrapped around the kid that he used to slowly lower the child down, and the building had been on fire. It certainly made him look bad though.

He gulped as he looked up and met Mr. Stark's steely gaze, refusing to look away. He wasn't guilty, he had no reason to be ashamed.

"Those aren't what they look like… I didn't do any of that." He tried hard to keep his voice even, trying not to think about what would happen if they didn't believe him.

Stark's eyes narrowed at him, and Peter looked away this time as his eyes burned. He wasn't going to cry, not here.

"This right here? This room, those blankets, that chair. This is a luxury compared to what any adult in your position would have. This is privilege, not a right. One that you have now solely because you are a child, Mr. Parker." So they knew who he was, he confirmed. Not surprising. "Privileges can be taken away. So I suggest you start giving me something to work on here, or I'll have to go on what I've found in the Hydra files, and the next place you end up won't be so nice."

"I didn't _do_ anything! I _swear_! I wouldn't… I would never…I _didn't do this._ " His voice cracked again and he cut himself off, eyes stinging at the implications of what the older man said. He met the man's eyes in desperation. Fear pooling in his stomach as the man looked at him with an unreadable expression before turning and heading toward the door, it opened for him immediately. Closing behind him with a resounding slam. Peter fell back onto the bed, plopping on his side and tightly grabbing onto a pillow to curl around, ignoring the protesting his ribs gave at the position. He stared at the wall as tears silently fell down his face. Thinking of his aunt, of Ned, even MJ. He was stuck here, being treated as if he were a criminal when all he'd ever done was try to help people. He eventually let himself succumb to sleep.

Tony let out a long, frustrated sigh as soon as he stepped into the common room. The team was gathered around, sitting on the couches and watching the security camera. Steve and Natasha broke from their discussion and looked up at him as he stepped into the room.

"Nothing. He says he didn't do any of it. And frankly? I believe him."

Steve, Clint, Sam, and Rhodey all nodded at him. Clint pitching in with his opinion.

"Children don't lie very well, he seems pretty upset to me."

"If they're taught to, they can. That could just be remorse, or guilt at getting caught," Natasha remained impassive as she watched the video feed of the boy, who now lay curled up on his side facing the wall.

Steve shook his head, "That's not guilt. That's fear. He's scared. He's a _child,_ not a killer. As much as Hydra has on him, there's a lot more from civilians and the internet saying he's a hero."

Natasha gave him a cold look, "Children can be killers too, if forced to."

Clint looked at her in sympathy, "Nat, look at him. Hydra isn't trusted, just because they have a few pictures and some files doesn't mean it's true. In this case, I think the civilians are right. Youtube videos show him doing nothing but helping. Oh, and look at this!" Clint pulled the laptop on the coffee table in front of him closer, typing into it and clicking before whirling it around. A video started playing, Spider-Man was lowering children out of a building. Nat watched the video with a shake of her head.

"So what? He saves a few kids, that doesn't mean he hasn't changed. For all we know, they're both right."

"No, wait. Look. Friday, pause the video and rewind ten seconds." The video looped backwards and played, before Tony called for it to pause. It was a frame of the child dangling from the window. "Pull up the corresponding photo from Spider-Kid's file. Compare side-by-side." Friday did as instructed, and the picture pulled up. The child was the same in both images. Almost in the same position, just taken at a separate angle.

Tony made a small _aha_ noise and grinned, "There we have it. Kids innocent and all. Let's go set him loose now."

Steve and Natasha both frowned at that. Steve shook his head.

"Tony… we can't do that yet. Not until we have more solid evidence that he isn't a threat, at least. Plus, he's a child. He shouldn't be in danger in the first place."

Clint frowned at the screen, where the boy was shaking softly with his head buried into a pillow. He must've woken up. He glanced at the others as they bickered about what to do with the kid, before standing and walking toward the hallway leading to the room.

"I'm gonna check up on the kiddo. Feel free to continue with whatever you're in a cat fight about this time, ladies. Nat, let me know what's decided." He vaguely took in Steve and Tony's affronted expressions before focusing on the task at hand, stopping by the kitchens to grab a water bottle and wandering down the hall.

He opened the door and walked in, wincing slightly at the loud bang that accompanied the heavy object's closing. The figure on the bed didn't move, but tensed slightly, small hiccuping sobs being muffled by the pillow. His heart broke slightly and he moved toward the bed, ignoring how the kid tensed more and turned his head slightly away.

He sat on the edge of the bed, gently placing a hand on the teenager's back, only for him to jerk away with a sniff, scooting further toward the wall. Clint frowned slightly, but placed his hand back between the shoulderblades, this time a little more firmly. The teen jerked again, but the hand stayed in place and started moving small circles on his back.

" _Stop_." Peter said, voice cracking and throat sore, annoyance seeping through.

Clint gave a small sigh as his hand stilled their movements, "C'mon buddy. Just look at me, I just wanna talk."

Peter gave a small growl, he wasn't a naive child like they seemed to think. He jerked away from the hand again, but he didn't have anywhere to scoot away from it without being pressed against the wall again. It landed on his shoulder this time, thumb rubbing gently lines along the side of his spine. Peter gave a frustrated noise.

"Get _out!_ I don't want you here. Just leave me _alone_." His voice broke and he let out a small sob before cutting himself off and burrowing into the pillow.

"C'mon. Just drink a little bit of water and I'll leave you alone. 'Kay?" He squeezed the shoulder slightly, pulling up a bit to try to get the boy to turn around. There was an angry snarl and the boy whirled around, fist flying wildly in the direction of the archer. The hand on his shoulder was suddenly gone, his fist met with thin air. He looked beside him, breathing heavily, at where the archer had retreated a few feet away.

"Go. Away. Leave me alone." His eyes were red-rimmed, he knew. Snot dripped down his nose and he angrily wiped it away, refusing to look the archer in the eye. He heard a sigh and tensed as the man walked closer. He eyed him warily, fist clenched in preparation.

Hawkeye looked at him with bemusment and concern, "I wouldn't throw another punch if I were you."

"Or what? You'll stab me with a needle again?" Hawkeye winced at that, eyeing the emotional boy warily.

"Nope. Just a long lecture from Captain America himself, his _disappointed in you_ voice and all." He said jokingly, and took another few steps toward the boy who tensed further, not laughing in the slightest.

"Get out. I'm not a stupid kid, stop trying to treat me like one!"

The archer raised both hands, one holding a water bottle. He tipped the corner of his mouth up slightly and tilted his head in the direction of the nightstand.

"Alright. No worries, I get that. I'm just gonna leave this on the nightstand, alright? Then I'll leave."

The kid eyed him warily, before nodding guardedly.

He cautiously walked to the nightstand, placed down the water bottle on the nightstand, and backed out of the room. Door opening and shutting behind him.

As soon as he reached the corridor he slumped against the wall.

"Jesus. Teenagers are _difficult_.

 ** _That's all for now! I originally titled this chapter Hawkass while writing it. 😉 Stay tuned for some more angst and to see how Bucky plays into all this!_**


	3. James

The Avengers sat comfortably in the briefing room, discussing just what to do with the teenager sitting in a cozy cell just down the hall.

"We can't just keep them there forever, Capsicle! We're Avengers, not babysitters. What the hell are we supposed to do? As a matter of fact, what exactly are we waiting for? We've got plenty enough proof that he's not a threat. Why not just let him go?" Tony banged his fist against the table, pointing angrily at the surveillance of the kid attempting to pull the chair free from the floor. "We shouldn't even be involved in this. Isn't it a bit below our paygrade? Why Spider-Man?"

"Dear God I say it, but Stark's right. We can't just lock him up forever. Why is he still here, Rogers?" Clint's voice was cold from where he sat across from Tony. He wasn't even looking in Steve's direction, instead staring murderously at the footage as the kid punched the wall before dropping to his knees clutching his hand.

"They're not wrong, we should hand him over to SHIELD already and let them deal with it." Natasha pitched in from beside Clint, sounding slightly annoyed that they hadn't done so in the first place.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. He looked over the team, momentarily locking eyes with Sam, who leaned back with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. As if to say that if Steve didn't explain, then he would. Steve stood, grabbing his satchel from behind the chair and pulling out a manila folder, to which Tony rolled his eyes. His muscles were tense as he stood with his back to the team, taking in a deep breath before turning around and placing it on the table. He looked up.

"Sam and I have a lead on Bucky." He hesitated before saying the next part, "Spider-Man seems to have… run into him previously." Clint took in a sharp breath.

"You mean that kid fought _The Winter Soldier_ and _lived!?_ "

"Of course, that's what this is about. Your mission to track down a psychopathic Hydra assassin that tried to kill you more times than you can count. For God's Righteous Man you're pretty fucking selfish."

Tony and Clint and even Rhodey were staring bitterly at Steve now, incredulous and outraged. Natasha's lips were a thin line and Sam was staring patiently at Steve, who sighed and explained further.

"Not exactly fought, more like met with." He slid a picture across the table, of Spider-Man sitting on a ledge making wild hand gestures to a man in a dark hoodie and jeans. The camera was angled just enough to get a clear picture of the serious face that looked back at the exuberant teenager. "We don't know if Buck knows who's behind the mask, nor do we know what his mental state is. The one person who _does_ know that, however, is sitting in that room right now. He's the only lead we have guys. I admit I should have handled this better, working as a team and in how we… I… have been treating the kid. It was selfish. I should've told you my main reasoning for going after him _before_ we did. I apologize for that, but this is the situation we have on hand, and now's the time to fix it. Better late than never."

The room was silent, his fellow Avenger's faces calculating as they took in his earnest expression. Sam gave him a small nod, Rhodey giving him a bitter warning from beside him.

"We're a team Roger's, and you're the leader. If we can't trust you to tell us the whole truth, how can we trust you in battle. I understand, though, that everyone makes mistakes. If you can assure me that you won't keep information from us again, I'll give you a second chance. Lord knows I've given Tony enough of them."

Steve gave a small smile and nodded, turning to a smirking Tony next. "Who would've known. Mr. Perfect can screw up after all. Gotta say, not as impressive as I thought it'd be. If you've got Rhodey on your side then sure, whatever." He gave a small wave of his hand and a half-shrug, and Steve resisted the urge to glare at his "Mr. Perfect" comment. Instead he opted for a small nod and looked toward Clint and Natasha.

They stared in silence for a long moment before Natasha stated with a shrug, "Nothing I didn't already know, boys. I've got a meeting to get to, see you around." She left without a word, and Steve winced slightly at the cold shoulder, but knew that she would seek him out later about it.

Clint glared at him for a tense moment before standing up to follow her, "Fix the kid situation, then I'll see about it."

The rest of the Avengers filed out, and Steve dropped back into his seat, head in his hands.

"Okay, fix the kid situation…" He winced, knowing that if plan A didn't work, plan B would take some convincing from the team.

Peter glared at the door, his ribs had long since healed up, and a doctor had come in to look at the bandages. He'd had a suit of armor and an Avenger guide him to a bathroom just across the hall, and he'd glanced around to see if there was anything of use. Even if there had been anything -which there hadn't been- the _suit of armor_ that stood watching his every movement with it's creepy glowing eyes quickly deterred him from making a run for it. He'd have to time it right, he didn't have enough information yet to try to escape.

The armor watching him also made him try to use the bathroom as least often as possible, and when he'd grumbled complaints about the invasion of privacy Tony had merely snorted and told him to be lucky he didn't have a prison toilet inside the room itself. Hawkeye had raised a brow and offered to go in it's stead, to which Peter had glared at him and promptly decided he didn't need to use the restroom then, bitterly giving the asshole of an archer the silent treatment until he left. Which lead him to where he was now, slightly regretful and sitting on the edge of the bed bouncing his foot as he debated on whether or not pounding on the door would gain enough attention to get him a restroom break.

Just as he decided that pissing himself would be a bigger blow to his pride then admitting defeat, the door opened. He jerked his head up, foot still bouncing anxiously. The super soldier in the doorway raised an eyebrow at him, letting out a small snort before turning his hand and jerking it toward the door.

"Hawkeye mentioned you'd given him the cold shoulder earlier." The super soldier sounded amused, and Peter glared and grumbled.

"Hawkeye. More like Hawkass." The super soldier wrinkled his nose slightly at the comment, but didn't say anything.

The second Peter stepped into the hallway the soldier next to the door sprung to life, ready to follow him and leave him wallowing in misery. Captain waved a hand at it with a short _stand down_ and a hand landed on his shoulder leading him to the bathroom across the hall. Peter looked suspiciously at Cap, but was relieved when he stopped outside the doorway.

When he finished his business and stepped back into the hall, he automatically started walking back to the room, but the soldier's hand landed back on his shoulder in a firm grip, not letting him move anywhere. He looked back in confusion, to which the older male gave him a gentle smile before leading him down the hall. Peter subtly glanced around as they walked, taking in and memorizing as much as possible while keeping an eye on the Captain.

"We're going somewhere else this time, actually. I think you'll find it a bit nicer. I called your aunt so she wouldn't worry, she didn't pick up, but I left her a message and told her what happened. Don't worry, when she calls back I'll make sure you get a chance to speak with her."

Peter stopped walking to look at him in shock.

"You did _what!?_ " Steve stopped as well, confused.

"Shit, oh shit, oh shit. She's going to _murder_ me!" Peter was frantic, hand running through his hair repeatedly.

"Don't worry, son. I kept out the whole resisting arrest thing, made it seem more like we asked you to help us out with an investigation and you so kindly offered your knowledge on it. Told her you'd be staying with us to lay low for a bit and to call back to discuss it more when she could. I'm sure she won't murder you." The super soldier let out a small chuckle and patted the kid's shoulder.

"No!" Peter brushed the hand off, face going red in anger. "You don't get it! She doesn't know! _Nobody knows_! IT'S A SECRET FOR A REASON! Please tell me you didn't mention that I was Spider-Man, please!" Peter was terrified. If Aunt May knew then she would kill him, if she didn't he might get away with eternal grounding for missing dinner and worrying her.

Hawkeye had come around the corner during the speech, having heard the yelling. He took in the scene with wide eyes, glancing back at Steve who just shook his head slightly. He stayed nearby though, in case things got out of hand.

"Son. Calm down. I didn't know, but I don't think I'd mentioned Spider-Man at all during the voicemail. She's your guardian though, she has a right to know." His hand came back to land on the boy's shoulder, looking at him sternly.

Peter clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Whatever. You wouldn't understand anyway."

Steve shrugged off the teenage angst, turning and placing a hand at the base of the kid's neck, ignoring the immediate tensing. "Alright, son. Let's get going." The hand tried to propel him forward, but Peter stubbornly crossed his arms and planted his feet. Utilizing the lack of shoes and sticking ability to stay put despite the strong hand attempting to guide him forward.

"I'm not your son. Stop calling me that." Peter knew he was just looking for a fight at this moment, but he was so angry. They weren't going to tell his aunt, he couldn't let them do that. He didn't care what they said, all it did was put more people in danger. It'd get her killed, just like it did Ben.

He was oddly satisfied at the long-suffering sigh from above him, missing the knowing smirk Hawkeye threw the super soldier.

"Alright, Peter. C'mon, I'm sure you'd rather come with me than go back to that room."

"You mean the _cell_ , that _you_ put me into in the first place." Peter corrected, but he walked forward anyway. Even if he didn't want to go anywhere with the super soldier, he couldn't turn down the chance to map out more of the building. That didn't, however, stop him from muttering just loud enough for the archer to hear as he passed him at the end of the hall.

"Hawkass."

The bewildered expression was definitely worth the light headslap and muttered _language_ from the super soldier. He couldn't keep the smug smirk off his face until they were standing at a new door, and he realized that he wasn't sure what exactly lay behind it. Did Iron Man's threat happen? Is he going to an actual cell now? Or was there someone waiting for him? He found himself slightly worried at the possibilities.

There was a slight squeeze from the hand on his neck, which he assumed was meant to be comforting but ended up making him flinch harder and shivers go up his spine. The hand was only a few inches below the spider bite. He distantly realized that the dull buzzing of his sixth sense had died down to a faint tickle now that he had left the cell. When his aunt pulled him into a hug her hand would rest unknowingly over the location of the bite, thumb rubbing smooth circles and gently massaging the tense muscles. She was the only person he felt comfortable with touching the area, and yet she had no idea just how much it meant when she did so.

Peter jerked out of his thoughts at his name, and blushed when he realized Captain America was looking down at him from just inside the open doorway in concern. He glanced past the Captain and looked into the room, eyes widening at the sight. It was huge! And an actual room, not a cell. The furniture wasn't bolted down, the bed was _huge_ and covered in what looked to be the softest blankets and pillows in the world. There was an open door to the right that looked to be the bathroom, an open closet full of clothes next to it. There was a dip in the floor to his left that had a small sitting area with couches and bean bags, a flat screen mounted onto the wall.

He took a tentative step inside, glancing at Captain America to see a small grin forming.

"Like it? I asked Tony to fix it up for you, or hire people to at least. Figured that spruced up "cell" that I had you in wasn't exactly fit for a teenager. No matter how temporary your stay here is. I'm hoping to get you home sooner rather than later." He gave the kid a pat on the shoulder, watching as he glanced around the room in awe. It wasn't long before awe turned to suspicion.

"What do you want in return?" Steve cocked his head slightly at the boy, confused.

"Nobody ever does something like this just because. There's always a price. What do you want?" Steve let out a small sigh and gestured for the kid to take a seat in the sitting area. He watched as he perched on the edge of a chair before sitting himself half-way onto the arm of the chair across from him.

"First of all, I don't expect anything in return for this. I screwed up, I made a bad decision. You ended up getting the short stick of that choice. That was my fault, and it shouldn't have happened. This is me trying to fix it. If I could, I'd just pretend we never investigated Spider-Man and drop you back off at your aunt's house. I can't though, not until I know more about the situation. My priority is keeping you safe until we figure things out."

Peter leaned back slightly, crossing his arms and staring at him suspiciously as he explained himself. He sounded sincere and it _is_ Captain America after all, but you never know how different someone can be in person.

"We have reason to believe that you're in danger."

Peter snorted, "I'm Spider-Man. What do you expect, tea and cupcakes? I can handle myself."

Steve shook his head, "You've been doing this for a few months, yeah. I have no doubt that you can handle yourself when it comes to muggers and drug lords. This is a whole new level entirely, I'm talking professional assassins trained by some of the worst terrorist agencies in the world. I'm sure you could handle them, but not without the proper training."

Peter stared at him. He didn't want to admit it, but the Captain was right. He had only started a few months ago… it'd only been a few months since _that night._ He looked out for the little guys, but he still freezes sometimes when a gun comes into play. This was something bigger than that. He looked away, staring at the ground a few feet to his left with his jaw locked as the Captain's sincere eyes bore into him.

He looked back up, "How do you know this? How do I know you aren't just lying to get me to listen?"

Rogers looked at him and gave a small nod, "Hydra. We hacked into their database and found some interesting files. They've been stalking Spider-Man for quite some time, it seems. Less than a month after you started. It's a miracle they didn't find your identity. It's starting to look like they were planning something though. A hit or a kidnapping, we're not sure yet."

Peter smirked slightly, proud of his spidey sense, before frowning again. "You think they were planning a kidnapping, huh? If they wanted a hit they wouldn't have bothered with the framing or the stalking. They want to know who I am."

Steve hesitated, before nodding slowly. He decided now might be a good time to bring some more information up. He pulled the picture out of his pocket and handed it to the kid, who took it and stared for a moment before looking up.

"James… Do you think they're after him too?! They know his face! What if they found him!" The kid looked up wide-eyed, and looked ready to jump to his feet before Steve calmed him.

"Sit back down, Pete. We're looking for him, the most you can do to help right now is to stay safe. You can't risk going anywhere right now. You being Spider-Man right now means you risking your Aunt's life." He knew it was cruel, but if it kept the kid off the streets until they could get these guys, then it'd be worth it.

"What can you tell me about James? Do you know where he lives? Places he frequents? "

Peter shook his head and crossed his arms. And Steve sagged back into his chair, his only lead lost. How the hell was he gonna find one person in New Yo-

"He won't trust you, and he can handle himself just fine. I can go and talk to him, but I'm not betraying his trust by telling you everything. He's a bit paranoid, and you wouldn't even get within a mile before he knew you were there." Peter shrugged and sat back, arms crossed over his chest with a sense of finality. It was obvious that there was more to the soldier finding James than to just keep him safe. This was the perfect pawn to gamble with. There was no way the super soldier wouldn't take-

"No."

His head snapped back up.

"What!?"

"No. You aren't going to go risk your neck just to see your friend," Steve's tone was stern and commanding, "You're gonna stay here. You can either give us the information to find him, or he can flounder about alone with a terrorist agency on his tail. Your choice."

That didn't fit with what he'd observed from earlier conversation. Steve seemed to really care that he find James. Why would he just let him be?

"You're bluffing. You wouldn't just leave him there."

"Would I?" Steve's eyebrow raised, and Peter clenched his jaw.

"Fine." He bit out, standing up and wishing for all the world that he could throw a punch at the super stupid soldier. He needed to make sure James was safe. After that, he'd leave for good.

"Let me go with, then. I meant it when I said you wouldn't get within a mile without me."

Steve analyzed him before letting out a long breath and nodding, before pointing a finger at the teen.

"Fine, but Tony is making you a new suit and you will _listen to me_ when I tell you to do something. You won't like what happens if you don't. Are we clear?"

Peter stared for a moment, calculating.

"Crystal _._ "


	4. Nap-Time Protocol

Peter woke up early the next morning feeling refreshed and in a much better mood than previously. Instead of curling further into the blankets, he threw them off and hopped out of bed as the cool air hit him. He hadn't had much of an opportunity to look around and wasn't even entirely sure that the door would be unlocked. The sleek metal panel beside it looked promising though, and he found himself wandering toward the door and reaching to open it, only to immediately jump back in surprise as it the doors slid open before his fingers so much as brushed the box. His surprise quickly changed into excitement though, as he hopped into the hallway with a grin. He glanced left and right, recalling that the cell was to the left and down a few separate hallways. He had no idea where anything in relation to his rooms were, though. The disadvantage of being unconscious, it seems.

He picked a direction at random, wandering down hallway after hallway until he eventually came across an open entryway. The area was vastly different from the rest of the place. It lacked most of the modern electronics the rest of the place had, but the taste was no less elegant and expensive. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves, the ones closest to the door held what looked to be sleek, leather-bound journals. There was plush furniture in rich reds and browns strategically scattered about, but Peter's favorite part was the spiral staircase that leads to the second floor that wrapped around the sides. There as a gap in the corner between a second story bookshelf and the wall, revealing a discreet but quite large reading nook with plush cushions and a large window pane. Peter gaped at the view of New York's skyline, before wandering back around the library in search of a good book. Two hours later found Peter to be sunk into the cushions as he read through Bruce Banner's Personal Research Journal #4. It wasn't much later that Tony Stark wandered into the library as well. He placed a neat new journal back into its spot before glimpsing over at the large gap of missing journals.

"What the hell…" Stark mumbled, knowing that he hadn't removed any journals recently. "JARVIS, what happened to Banner's research journals?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Parker has taken a liking to them, sir. He is reading them in the library at the moment." Tony froze and glanced around, not seeing anybody.

"Uh-huh. And just where in the library is he located?"

"It would seem he has taken up Dr. Banner's reading nook." Tony sucked in a breath and glared up the stairs for a moment before deliberately making his way up. He found himself standing in front of the kid, who was immersed in the complex research. The older man snorted, doubting the kid even understood what it all meant. The kid looked up, wide-eyed, at the sudden noise.

"Alright, kid. Get up." He made a small hand gesture and waited until the kid was standing. "What do you think you're doing in here?"

"Uh… I was just. Uhm. Reading a little bit. I'm super sorry if I disturbed you or something! I thought since there wasn't a door and it seemed fairly public that it'd be okay and I saw Dr. Banner's research journals and I'm a huge fan so I thought it'd be okay." He continued rambling," I'm only to the one on the effects of gamma radiation on human reproductive ability but this research is really groundbreaking. I figured it'd be okay because nothing was locked away and this reading area is, like, super duper comfy and nobody told me…"

Tony was quickly getting more and more annoyed, still beating himself up at the fact that Bruce was still missing despite his best efforts. Now, this kid was getting into Banner's very private research in Banner's personal hiding spot. He let the kid ramble for a moment before he eventually just cut the kid off with a, "Well it wasn't. Jesus! You're fourteen, not four. You should know better than to touch other people's things, for fuck's sake."

Peter looked positively cowed, shoulders hunched and head hung low. "I just… I mean, I didn't… Sorry… I'll just go put them away. I didn't mean to be rude… I just thought…"

"You didn't think," Tony cut him off cooly, stone-faced. "Don't bother putting them up, who knows what else you might fuck up. Just… go back to your room or something kid. Ask Jarvis if you need anything, just don't fucking touch anything."

Peter quickly nodded, "Yes, sir." Then quickly bee-lined for the door. He let out a long sigh as he reached the hallway, looking left and right before remembering what Mr. Stark said.

"Uh… Jarvis?" There was a pause, then.

"Yes, Mr. Parker? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Peter gave a small smile at the polite AI, before asking if he could give directions to his room.

"Certainly, Mr. Parker. However, Mr. Barton is currently requesting your presence in the main lounge. Would you like me to guide you to him instead?"

Peter groaned but figured he might as well.

"Sure, Jarvis. Thank you."

"Of course, Mr. Parker."  
Peter quickly followed the small blue lights coming from the floor, eventually coming to a stop in a room with a large tv surrounded by couches, a large and fully-stocked kitchen to his left. He quickly spotted Hawkeye sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, facing away from him. He was chatting with Captain America, who stood in front of the griddle flipping pancakes.

He glanced up for a moment and caught sight of Peter, giving him a small smile.

"Hey kid, you up for some pancakes?"

Peter's stomach positively grumbled at the thought, and Steve gave a small laugh before turning back to the griddle.

"They should be done in a few minutes. Why don't you grab a seat?" He gestured toward the island, next to Clint. Peter hesitantly took the farthest seat from the archer. Unfortunately, the farthest only left a single stool between them. Steve turned around and set a small stack of plates in front of them. There was a tense silence for a moment, which was broken by Hawkass awkwardly deciding to play 20 questions.

"So… What's your favorite color?"

"Red."

"Least favorite?"

"Purple," Peter bit out just to spite him.

"Okay… Favorite superhero?" Peter gave him an "Are you stupid?" look.

"Ant-Man. Least favorite is Hawkass if you wanted to know."

At this point, Clint was already grasping for straws. "What's your favorite subject? Anything interesting going on at school?"

Peter stared at him. "It's science, and I wouldn't know. I haven't been there for a while, have I?" Hawkeye winced slightly but glared back at the kid.

"What's your problem, kid? I'm just trying to be nice! All I've been is nice to you! What's with the attitude?"

Peter glared and stood up, jaw clenched. "Oh, is that what they call stabbing someone with a needle? Drugging them? Kidnapping them?"

Clint stood up too, arms crossed over his chest. "We thought you were a criminal. We made a mistake, we apologized. Stop acting like my 6-year-old and throwing a fit over it."  
Peter clenched his fist, "Don't you get it?! Sorry doesn't fix anything! You want a physical example of what you did?" He picked up a glass plate and threw it at the floor. It loudly shattered and there was complete silence for a moment as he spoke to it.

"Sorry." He spoke bitingly, looking up to glare at Hawkass. "Do I need to dumb it down for you more, or is that good?"

"That's it you little fucker, drop the goddamn attitude or I swear to fucki-"

"ENOUGH!"

Both of them froze, glancing over to see an irate spatula-wielding Captain America glaring at them.

"I ought to lock you both in an empty room until you learn to get along." Both males glared petulantly at him.

"You," he pointed the spatula at Peter, "Breaking things isn't acceptable behavior. You should know that by now. I realize that we screwed up, and I realize that just saying sorry doesn't mean anything. But," He continued, "If you bothered to give us a chance, you'd see that we're willing and trying to make it up to you." Peter looked away, sulking.

"You," he pivoted slightly to point at Clint, "should know better than to act so childishly and argue with a teenager. You're an adult, act like it." Clint clenched his jaw but gave him a small nod.

"Good. This happens again, and I will lock you two together until you play nice. Peter, go to your room. I'll bring you breakfast when it's done. Clint, help me clean up this mess before everyone gets down here." They both looked like they bit into something sour, but they obeyed. Peter practically stalked out the door and down the hallway, previous good mood completely doused after his encounters with the three Avengers. Jarvis lit up directions without him needing to ask, and he quickly found himself back to his room. The door slid closed behind him, and he let out a breath, slightly disappointed that he couldn't slam it closed.

He angrily plopped himself into an over-large bean bag and flicked through the television channels, grumbling under his breath. An idea popped into his head.

"Hey, Jarvis?" He asked hesitantly, unsure if the AI would still answer him.

"Yes, Mr. Parker?"

Peter grinned. "Is there anything I'm not allowed to do?"

"There is, Mr. Parker. Under the Sticky Hands Protocol, you are no longer permitted in the library without an adult, nor into the labs, knife drawers, or equally dangerous areas. Under the Baby Pen Protocol, you are not permitted off the main three Avengers floors of the building. Is there anything else you wish to know?"

Peter groaned, "What am I, two? I wonder what other protocols he made because of me."

"Time-Out Protocol, Nap-Time Protocol, Mouthy Menace Protocol, Spider-Brat Escapade Proto-"

"Okay, okay!" Peter interrupted, face flamed. "Stupid billionaire. Doesn't have anything better to do with his time than to make up baby names."

"Would you like me to relay that message for you, Mr. Parker?"

"No! I mean, uh. That won't be necessary, Jarvis. Thank you." He let his head fall back onto the bean bag with a thunk.

"So Mr. Stark's actually making me a new suit?"

"That is correct. It contains many more protocols," Peter's grin at the thought of a new suit turned into a groan as he realized that there would be much more than he'd wish coming with it.

"I don't need any of his stupid protocols. Couldn't I just wear my old suit instead, It already has everything I need minus the dumb protocols." There was a pause, and Peter flicked to another channel.

"I have relayed your question to Mr. Stark. He seems most dissatisfied at the moment, and would like to know if you need a nap?"

Peter shot up, face flushing red. "What!? How stupid could you possibly be!?"

There was a pause again, and Peter realized too late what was happening.

"Wait, no! Don't ask that Jarvis, I didn't mean it!" Peter stood, frantically speaking in hopes he wouldn't be too late.

"My apologies, Mr. Parker. I have already relayed your message. Sir seems very irate, as does Captain Rogers. Captain Rogers wishes to inform you that he will be having a chat with you later and that if you wish to continue behaving like a small child, then you can remain here tonight when they go to retrieve Mr. Barnes. Mr. Barton has said, "Told you to cool the attitude, kid." Nap Time Protocol has been activated, it will be deactivated after the completion of your nap. Goodnight, Young Mr. Parker."

The t.v. turned off and the lights went out, leaving the room bathed in just enough light to get around without falling. Peter heard the audible click of the door locking shut and groaned, embarrassed at being confined to his room in such a manner. He scrubbed a hand down his face and stood up, looking for something to do. Besides the tv, the only other thing in the room was video game systems. None of which worked at the moment. Apparently, his closet space contained enough entertainment to warrant being locked as well. His bathroom, too.

He sighed, deciding that he might as well take a nap anyway, tonight was sure to be stressful.


End file.
